


Origin

by jumyouboshi, RikuNanase



Series: Origin [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumyouboshi/pseuds/jumyouboshi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikuNanase/pseuds/RikuNanase
Summary: Even Lucifer had a beginning.





	Origin

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanons up the WAZOO with this fic that I can't wait for GBF to debunk!!! Anyway I couldn't get this thought out of my head so I had to write it. I'm also still emo from What Makes the Sky Blue part 2 and I needed things to distracted me from. That.
> 
> Enjoy!

When he first opened his eyes, it was to mangled bodies of others like him; the sight of tattered white wings stained red, of malformed abominations who could do little but crawl and claw at him as he towered over them. Mindless monsters gone mad from the powerful cores that their bodies couldn’t sustain, creatures that could barely be called living things that reeked of blood as the ones still alive tore at each other.

Blank eyes of steel blue gazed listlessly at the sight before him, and then wandered to the man standing behind a glass wall and watching the scene unfold. That man, one he knew immediately to be his mirror image, gave him his first command:

“Kill the failures.”

And though they were the first words ever spoken to him, he understood what they meant, instinctively knew that the man who had spoken to him was the Astral who had given him life. He was obligated to obey. So he did.

The first failure was terminated with a swift hit to the neck. The second had its core ripped from its body and crushed in the palm of his hand. The third was a monster that tried to fight back, responding in kind to the dying cries of its brethren, but it was torn apart. It went on and on until there was nothing but carnage left. By the time his grisly first task was finished, he was stained in blood, blood that was own yet wasn’t, and the Astral who had spoken to him entered the room. The Astral reached over, fingers trailing across a bloodstained cheek, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Your name is Lucifer. And you will oversee evolution in this world.”

 

* * *

 

For the first few years, Lucifer was alone. There were no others like him--no other stood tall like him, none had six brilliant wings protruding from their backs like him. Beings like him, “primal beasts,” were still works in progress, according to snippets of conversation that made their way to his ears. 

His second task was to “destroy the dissenters;” stragglers of those who still resisted Astral control. Only when the world fell completely into Astral hands would Lucifer be able to carry out his role, or so he had been told. So Lucifer descended upon the enemies of the stars like a six-winged omen. None ever escaped him.

He began such dangerous missions alone, and ended them as the lone victor. When he returned to the Astral labs, stained with blood that wasn’t his own, Lucilius would always greet him with the same cold smile and praise that Lucifer would mechanically accept.

 

* * *

 

It would be a decade before the Astrals finally smothered the last flickering embers of rebellion and assume control. Lucifer slipped into his task easily enough, helping Lucilius with his research, surveying the natural world, and reporting new specimens as instructed. 

During this time, Lucifer came to realize how blue the sky was.

When he gazed into the vast expanse of azure that encompassed everything, he began noticing other things. The emerald plains that he flew over. The flowers that bloomed in spite of the wind and rain. The trees that attempted to reach the heavens. The birds that sang as the sun blanketed the world in its warm light. And though he and Lucilius had discovered the many truths behind all of it, there was something wondrous about the natural world that Lucifer couldn’t name. Perhaps because it was beyond his capacity to ponder such things. Perhaps because he had been designed as a machine to do the Astrals’ bidding. 

He could, however, distinguish a certain feeling when the smallest songbirds which started at the slightest sound approached him of their own accord, perching on his offered finger and trilling to what they knew instinctively as a benevolent, gentle being. 

And when he took flight, and the tiny sparrows spread their earthen brown wings to join him, he could finally name that feeling. 

Belonging. 

He was no longer flying alone, after all. 

 

* * *

 

One day, he noticed a bird at his feet.

It was a tiny brown bird, and Lucifer recognized  from the distinctive white stripe on its wings that it was a songbird native to the area. It was among the kind that had flown beside him when he first spread his wings in the skies. This one lay sprawled on the ground, its eyes flickering open and shut as it struggled to stand and take flight, one of its wings bent at an odd angle. He thought to the night before, where a vicious storm had tore through the island, and wondered if the bird had been whipped about by the fierce winds and injured. It was a miracle that the bird hadn’t been eaten by a predator yet.

Lucifer knelt down and scooped the bird into his palms and marveled at the warmth that seeped into the fabric of his gloves. It was so fragile, so tiny--yet it was still brimming with the will to live, in spite of all of the odds against it, and the sight of that fierce desire stirred something within his chest.

He wanted to do something. For the first time in his life, Lucifer _wished,_ wished that this tiny, fragile bird with so much life in it would live. He traced a finger delicately along the contour of the injured wing, his hand glowing with a soft light. The light seeped into the limb, and as if rejuvenated, the bird clambered onto its feet, flapped its wings...and flew away.

It was with confidence that he could say that the warmth that swelled in his chest as he watched the sight was happiness.

 

* * *

 

That joy was short-lived.

The next day, Lucilius summoned Lucifer to his chambers, and Lucifer saw a knife in one hand, and the little brown bird in another, chirping loudly as it frantically struggled to free itself. Lucilius steely gaze was trained on it as if it were the most disagreeable thing in the world. Without looking up at Lucifer, he addressed the primal beast with a voice like ice.

“I didn’t think you would be so quick to go back on your word, Lucifer… You are the supreme primarch who governs evolution. Any action you take can have a dire effect on the world.”

Lucifer was silent, swallowing the words and trying to ignore what he could recognize as dread creeping up his spine. He watched as Lucilius pinned the bird to the table, finally leveling a frigid glare in Lucifer’s direction.

“You are to remain neutral. Do you understand?”

And before Lucifer could respond, Lucilius drove the knife through the bird, the disgusting noise of metal piercing flesh resounding through the spacious room, and the chirping ceased completely. Lucifer could only stare with slowly widening eyes as the bird fell completely still against the knife it had been impaled on. When he finally found the will to speak, it was with an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

“Why did you…?”

“The bird was fated to die the moment its wing was broken. That’s _evolution_ at work. I fixed your _mistake…_ Be grateful that you are the guiding light of this world, Lucifer. Or else my reprimand would have been much more severe. And what’s this…?”

Lucilius stood from his desk and walked closer, his unkind eyes boring into the distress now etched into Lucifer’s expression.

“What’s this face you’re making…?”

He reached out and grabbed the primarch’s chin, forcing him to look Lucilius in the eye, forcing him so that he couldn’t look anywhere else.

“This won’t do… It’s not _perfect.”_ He leaned even closer, as if inspecting a faulty tool. “I wonder...are you a failure too?”

And Lucifer remembered then, the malformed beasts that he had been ordered to tear apart as soon as he had begun breathing. Beings that were unlike him, yet like him, and though he was a creature devoid of desire, he _knew_ that he didn’t want to end up like those failures--end up torn from limb to limb by a version of him that was more _perfect..._

Lucifer closed his eyes as if to hide any other defects that Lucilius may have found, the weight of his purpose feeling heavy on his shoulders. He was an arbitrator who couldn’t interfere with the natural world. He was a deity who had all of the power in the skies, yet had no power at all; a mere observer who wasn’t allowed to possess wishes of his own, who was obligated to put the world first, and himself second.

“...Forgive me.” In spite of the vague feeling of turmoil, his voice was level. “I acted out of line… I won’t do it again. I understand my role.”

It was the answer that Lucilius had wanted to hear. The Astral’s grip relented and he smiled, his fingers tracing along Lucifer’s cheek instead. It was as if he relished in the absolute obedience of his perfect creation, enjoyed the control he had over the beast among beasts.

“That’s right… You are incredibly valuable, after all. The pinnacle of utmost perfection…”

He was to dispose of the dead bird later, and as he held its lifeless body in his hands, he noted how cold it was.

Lucifer wondered if he had simply taken no action at all, whether it would have survived.

And then he wondered whether the ache in his chest was "sadness."

 

* * *

 

Decades passed, and Lucifer was no longer the naive, apathetic angel that he had been in his first years of life.

Other archangels joined him. Michael. Gabriel. Uriel. Raphael. Azazel. Olivia. Many others filled the ranks, all under Lucifer’s reign, all created by Lucilius. He led the angels with his head held high, standing at the apex of the world as its shining example. Just, but neutral; benevolent, but detached; compassionate, but devoid of any real emotion beyond the scope of what he had been created for. He was the textbook example of an angel and commanded absolute respect from all others. As far as Lucilius and the primarchs were concerned, he was perfect.

All were below him--Lucilius had made it so. But there was never anyone beside him.

 

* * *

 

“Lucifer. I need you to create another archangel.”  
  
The supreme primarch stood before the Astral researcher in a silent stupor, though his composed presentation would have suggested otherwise.  
  
“Another?” he inquired, but Lucilius was already retrieving the required item from his desk, seemingly detracting from any questions.  
  
“I will give you this core. Make of it as you wish.”  
  
The darkened orb was small, comfortably palm sized as it glistened a deep bruise color in the sunlight. An empty core was his blank canvas, a vessel for infinite possibility…  
  
And yet his instructions had been so _vague_.

Lucifer had been privy to the parts of the design process of the archangels below him--Micheal, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael… each of them with a unique build and following a plan laid-out to follow right down to every last feather. But this one… Lucilius had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped, not even mentioning the likes of a role for this new life.  
  
“Make of it as I wish... hm…”

It kept the supreme primarch awake many a nights trying to envision this new angel’s potential, what their name might be, their appearance… he supposed, however, that he should begin with a name.

What could he possibly name an angel without a role?

If the angel had no role, would it be outside of Lucifer’s command?

Rather than walking in front of this angel, would Lucifer be able to walk alongside them instead?

He pondered for a little longer, and then decided. The angel’s appearance fell into place soon after. For the angel who had no role, who could stand beside Lucifer as an equal, Lucifer would bestow upon him the traits of the world he had come to love. 

As if responding to Lucifer’s will, the core began to glow. He released it from his hands, where it hovered before him. Lucifer unfurled his six magnificent wings to their full extent and then enveloped the glowing core with them. They came away moments later, and where a barren core had once been was another pair of wings instead, folded tightly around a humanoid figure.

 _Soft brown wings with white stripes..._ Like the ones belonging to the first to have ever flown in the skies alongside Lucifer... The ones belonging to the innocent life that had been lost because of Lucifer years ago.

Slowly, the wings spread, revealing the angel within. He was a brown-haired young man, smaller in stature than Lucifer, and more lithe; his colours were darker, more muted than the other angels, but nonetheless the comforting hue of the life-bearing earth. The angel opened his eyes for the first time, and they were a warm red, like an early morning sunrise.

And rather than the cruel, cold order that Lucifer himself had received upon his own conception, Lucifer wanted the first words this angel heard to be ones of warmth, of meaning.

So Lucifer said his name:

“Sandalphon.”

Sandalphon looked up at him with curious eyes that were both pure and warm, and Lucifer smiled gently at the newest angel.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sandalphon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ena (RikuNanase) wrote some of Lucilius' dialogue and also the part with the blank core up till where Lucifer decides that he should start with a name. He also came up with a lot of the ideas in this fic. Also a huge thanks to Xian (@leixilamu on twitter) for indulging my nonsensical twittering! They gave me a lot of ideas for the beginning part.
> 
> I also don't know whether Lucifer actually created Azazel (or Olivia for that matter) but Azazel mentions in his skill fate episode that he served Lucifer (and iirc he actually calls him "Lucifer-sama" in those side-scrolling segments in quests in the Japanese version) so I guess it's reasonable to assume...? Waiting for wmtsb iii to explain everything (or maybe ShinBaha to debunk me because I don't actually know about ShinBaha)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
